Title cover: miicooochan on Twitter. Check her out! So much great fanart.
"Ugh!" Bulla huffed as she swiftly shut the door behind her, leaning her back into it to keep it closed lest the opportunistic fools attempt to follow her right into her childhood home. "Here too? I thought they knew better than to try daddy's patience."
She was met with silence while she watched her brother barely register her arrival. He wandered past her in the CC foyer, not even looking in her direction. She frowned at his sullen expression, dropping her shoulders as she pushed herself away from the door and followed him into the living room. "Hey Trunks," she greeted sweetly, intentionally keeping her voice light.
He flopped onto the couch, extending his legs and bringing his arm to rest behind his head while he stared vacantly at the TV. Bulla leaned her elbows into the sofa's spine behind him. "I wasn't expecting her to be here tonight," she voiced casually, smiling to herself as she took in the sight of her thirty-something-year-old brother stretched out on the couch in her parents' living room, wearing a striped t-shirt, slim jeans and white socks - barely passing for someone out of high school, let alone the CEO of one of the most successful companies this side of Satan City. "I'm guessing that means you're joining us for dinner then?" She poked him in the arm when he didn't respond, eliciting a lazy swat from the melancholy Saiyan.
"Not hungry," he barely managed to grumble.
Bulla's frown returned and, instinctively, she rested her palm on his shoulder. What is a Saiyan without the infamous appetite? She offered a sympathetic rub, mildly surprised that he hadn't shooed her away this time. "Where is everyone?" the heiress asked, glancing around the room while she silently sought out her parents' respective energy signatures. Thursday nights were generally reserved for dinner with her family, and, as far as she knew, tonight was no exception. Usually, it was just Bulla, Bulma and Vegeta - Trunks often being far too caught up with work, his fiancee or his desperate need for sleep to spend his precious free hours back in the halls of his old home.
From what she could tell, her father was in his gravity room - Kami bless his relentless drive to push his limits despite being past his prime - and her mother was tucked away in her private lab, no doubt tinkering away at one of her personal projects. Despite passing the reins of her company to her son a good few years prior, Bulma appeared to be in no hurry to put her brain on the shelf, keeping herself entertained with an endless list of eyebrow-raising, yet less than marketable ideas.
"Nevermind," Bulla shrugged once she'd come to her own conclusions. Something told her not to expect an answer from her brother anyway. She hauled herself around the arm of the sofa to join him, despite there being other spots to colonise, and sat on his legs.
He groaned as he pulled his limbs in. "There's more than one couch you know."
Bulla smiled once more as she swivelled her head to gaze him. That's the most he's said all night. Good. Maybe if I annoy him enough I can get his mind off things for a bit.
Both halflings suddenly shifted their attention to the front door. It flew open and slammed shut all within the same blink as a tall dark-haired figure let out a heavy breath and pulled off his sunglasses.
"I'll never get used to those guys, I swear," he exhaled, turning his head towards the duo. "I don't know how you Briefs put up with it." He wandered towards the aforementioned siblings, clutching a brown paper bag in his right hand.
"Hey Goten," Bulla greeted, before twisting back around and spotting the tacky gossip mag on the glass coffee table in front of her. Her eyes raked over the bold headline: "Melody Calls It Quits!" and beneath "Everyone's Favourite Bachelor Is Back On The Market, Ladies!"
Yuck.
She reached over and ignited the glossy pages in her hand, causing both men to look at her quizzically. "There's a picture of me in the back," she explained. "Wasn't my best hair day."
Goten shrugged before slipping a tall, heavy bottle out of the unmarked bag and slamming it on the glass table in front of the two hybrids. "Brought your favourite!" he announced proudly. Trunks snorted, but Bulla didn't miss the small smirk that crept onto the ends of his mouth.
"SoCo." She nodded slowly, eyeing the label. "Classy."
The dark-haired halfling let out a chuckle as he sat down in a nearby armchair. "We're not all as refined as you, you know", he teased, grinning at the heiress.
"Oh trust me." She rolled her eyes. "I know all too well. Frankly, I'm amazed that I've gone this long without completely dissociating from your entire family."
"You are definitely Vegeta's daughter." He shook his head and unscrewed the cap on the liqueur. "Would you mind grabbing us some glasses?"
Bulla reared, genuinely shocked that he would even think to ask her such a thing.
He seemed to come to his senses after a couple of seconds, pushing himself up from his seat and striding towards the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with three tumblers and a bowl of ice.
Oh, she thought to herself. I didn't realise I was invited to the boys night.
The intercom chimed, distracting the heiress, and she begrudgingly got up to answer it. Pressing her carefully painted fingertip to the plastic button, she spoke. "Yes?"
"Delivery for Mrs Briefs," a nervous voice croaked from the other side. Bulla assessed him through the grainy screen in front of her. He's kinda cute.
"I'm guessing you'll need a hand. Wait there," she responded absently, letting her finger fall and subsequently cutting off the video display. "Goten," she called out, making her way towards her bag to find her wallet. "Help me get this food inside."
The two halflings exited the front door, only to be bombarded with flashing lights and a flurry of voices asking infuriatingly intrusive questions. Maintaining their gazes ahead, both kept their mouths shut as they soldiered towards the overwhelmed delivery boy.
"Bulla! Where's your brother?"
"Bulla, any opinions on Trunks' recent break-up?"
"Bulla, are the rumours about you and the Novatech heir true?"
All she could do was clench her fist. Any level of response simply spurred them on, even threats of violence - not that she'd ever resort to such a thing. She had a reputation to uphold after all. Maybe daddy could get away with it, but I certainly couldn't.
Once they reached the banged-up ride of the fresh-out-of-high-school driver, Bulla offered a practised winning smile and opened her wallet. "Hi there, sorry about the commotion. How much do I owe you?"
Goten stood next to her dully, hands in his pockets while they both waited for a response. The younger boy gulped before finally finding his voice. "Uhm. The order's already paid for."
"Right." She snapped her purse closed and tilted her face up to his, finding that he was staring at her with wide eyes. Aw, she smiled to herself. "So where's the food?"
"Oh!" He hastily pivoted and threw open the back door, catching a bundle of cartons as they threatened to spill out onto the sidewalk. He passed a few full bags to Goten before giving a couple to the heiress. Two were left, and Bulla watched in amusement as he ungracefully shuffled onto his backseat to grab them. Once he was done, he reached around the door with his foot and closed it, following behind the two hybrids as they made their way back to the main entrance.
Deep breaths, Bulla, she reminded herself as the questions kept coming from all directions. She glanced over at Goten and noted the tensing vein running past his temple while he kept the rest of his expression blank. I know, right?
"Just dump them on the counter," Bulla instructed, leading the two men to the kitchen. Once everything was unloaded, she discreetly pulled a few bills out of her wallet, folded them in half and turned to face the still-flustered delivery boy. Leaning in, she whispered in his ear, "For your trouble," and slipped the notes into his back pocket. His face flushed deep red before he nodded and tripped towards the exit.
"I'm pretty sure I know exactly what that kid's gonna do as soon as he gets back to his car," Goten smirked once the door closed.
Bulla shrugged her shoulders, already peering into a few nearby bags to see what was on offer. "Whatever. I gave him enough cash to show someone a really good time. Maybe he won't have to resort to that. Hungry?"
"She's still waiting to hear back," Bulla said, attempting to reach the last piece of chicken at the bottom of the carton with her chopsticks. "Of course, I told her I don't mind covering her until something comes up, but you know Pan."
"It can't be easy for her." Bulma pulled her eyebrows together in thought. "Being the granddaughter of two World Martial Arts champions definitely painted her in a light she may not have chosen before she even had a say. Not unlike you and your brother," she added, pointing her own chopsticks between the two siblings.
"Mhm." Bulla peeked into the empty boxes currently strewn around her, checking for any missed morsels. "We commiserate. Is there any more noodles?"
Goten paused mid-chew and tilted his box to the heiress, silently offering her some of his own. She scrunched her face and shook her head.
"So, Goten," Bulma turned her attention to her surrogate son. "How are things going your side? Still enjoying being in the movie business?"
"Eh." He shrugged heavily after a big swallow. "It's better than having a desk job. No offence, buddy," he added, turning to the younger of the two quiet princes. "Pay's good. When the work actually comes in."
"That reminds me," Bulla chimed in, stealing a noodle from her brother and earning herself a look. "I think I saw your girlfriend at a party a few weeks ago. Looks to me like her name's starting to get around."
"Yeah? I'll tell her you say that," he smiled, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. "She's convinced she's just one good role away from getting her name in lights."
"Maybe I should trying being an actress," the heiress pondered out loud, tilting her head to the ceiling in thought.
"Well, you've got enough practice being a drama queen," Trunks uttered, eliciting a scoff from his sister and a laugh from his friend. "I thought you don't like being in the limelight?"
"I don't." She folded her arms. "But at this stage, I'm open to anything. I'm getting really tired of just drifting along while I try to figure out what the heck I want to do with myself now that I've finally graduated. Daddy, what do you think?"
Vegeta stared blankly at his daughter, clearly unimpressed that he was actually expected to start contributing to the mindless conversation that was going on around him. "I could not think of a more pathetic career," he finally stated, causing Goten to momentarily choke on his dinner.
"Harsh," Bulla responded as she considered his words. "But you're probably right. I spend enough time pretending to be someone else, don't need to go adding more to my plate. And don't worry, Goten." She shifted her attention to the man opposite her. "Cleo, or whatever, never would have had my dad's respect anyway. You know his stance on women who stoop to your level."
"Clara," he corrected. "And thanks. Both of you."
"Anytime." Vegeta reached for another carton, clearly satisfied with himself.
"You two are horrible." Bulma reached out and patted Goten's hand. "Don't mind them. We're all very happy for the both of you. I just love seeing glimpses of you during those action scenes and knowing sweet Goten is out there doing his thing, performing all these death-defying stunts while the rest of us mere mortals watch in awe."
"Thank you Bulma," he beamed. "You guys should come on set next time. I can show you all the little tricks and secrets from behind the scenes."
"Maybe I will," Bulla answered. "I could totally be a stuntwoman."
"Oh my God, Bulla." Trunks threw his head back in exasperation. "Why did you even bother getting that fucking communication degree? Did you ever have any intention of using it?"
"Eventually," she shrugged, allowing his remark to simply roll off her. "I wanna see what other fun things I could do first though before I sell my soul to the corporate world. No offence." She grinned at him while Goten stifled a laugh.
Bulma stood up and set one of the cleaning bots to clear the table. "Great dinner everyone, but it's late and I'm going to bed." She stretched her back and patted her stomach before walking over to Trunks and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Your old room's already set up for you. C'mon Vegeta." Bulma dragged her fingers over the back of her husband's neck and sauntered towards the stairs.
"So are you living here now?" Bulla queried, taking a sip of bourbon while she made herself comfortable on the couch. The three hybrids had returned to the living area after their scrumptious dinner and were currently partaking his Goten's bottle of whiskey. "What happened to your place in the city?"
"It's only temporarily," Trunks answered, leaning his elbows into the top of his thighs, silky lavender strands hanging loosely beneath his face. "While Melody moves out. The place is swarming with press. It was driving me crazy."
"Yeah I bet," she muttered, narrowing her eyes and leaning the rim of her glass into her lips. "Don't you just hate how much they get off on our misery. I wish I could scare them into fucking off, like daddy does. Do you know what one of them asked me earlier? If I was actually having an affair with Gui Nova! Ugh, as if I would even give that guy a second look."
"You still with that rich prick?" Goten asked, sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor while he refilled his tumbler.
"Which one?" she giggled, leaning into the back of the couch she had shared with her brother earlier. "They've all been rich pricks."
"Uh. Brown hair, dad's a music producer I think," he clarified. "Rex, maybe?"
"Reco. Yeah, still seeing him. I'll be sure to tell him what you really think of him," Bulla laughed, reaching behind for a blanket and pulling it over herself.
"Goten's right," Trunks emptied his glass before slamming it on the coffee table. "He is a prick."
"He's not so bad," she sighed, feeling the room beginning to sway around her. "The media paints him in a bad light. He's actually really sweet if you get to know him."
"I do know him," Trunks muttered. "He's a prick."
Goten's phone vibrated on the table, startling the heiress - she was just beginning to nod off.
"You gonna get that?" Trunks rolled his head along the sofa arm to look upon his old friend.
"Nah, I'll let it go to voicemail," he responded, pouring the oldest of the three another glass. "Bulla?"
"I'm gonna stop there," she answered with closed eyes. Man, I forgot how comfortable the couches are at home. "Too much SoCo makes me puke."
"And you call yourself a Saiyan," Goten chastised. "Looks like it's just you and me, man."
The last thing Bulla heard before drifting off was the sound of clinking glasses, followed by two pairs of laughter as one of them made some undoubtedly stupid, completely unfunny and crude joke.
The obnoxious ringing of someone's cell phone disturbed the heiress from her heavy sleep, forcing her to open her eyes. She flinched at the bright stream of light that sneaked through the curtains and hit her in the face, quickly pulling the covers back up. Nope, not waking up yet.
"Baby, I'm sorry alright. I just got carried away."
On second thought. Bulla peered over her blanket and allowed a single turquoise eye to assess the room. Trunks was on the adjacent sectional, face buried into the back cushion, clearly still comatose, while Goten sat up on the other side, leaning his head onto the spine. Cute, she thought to herself. They still think nothing of sleeping together after all these years.
The heiress could hear the shrill screaming of, presumably, Goten's girlfriend coming through the earpiece and had to suppress childish laughter at hearing the older Saiyan get torn apart.
"No, I didn't see your call last night. I told you, I wasn't paying attention to my phone." At this Bulla cocked an eyebrow.
"I'm not lying. You know I'd never cheat on you. Why does it always have to come to this? It was just me and Trunks."
Ugh.
Bulla suddenly didn't feel like hearing this conversation and decided to drag herself off the couch, eager to freshen up. She overestimated her motor function, however, and accidentally knocked her shin into the edge of the coffee table as she ambled towards the kitchen. "Ow! Fuck!" She hopped on one foot while she gripped her leg in her hands.
The phone-voice suddenly got even louder and Bulla's eyes widened, immediately realising her mistake. She froze in place while she stared at Goten, cringing as he pulled the device away from his ear with a frown. Sorry, she mouthed.
"Clara, please." He dropped his free arm to the sofa seat in defeat. "That was just Bulla. You know, Trunks' sister?" Pause. "No! Well… maybe. It's his sister, okay? Of course she wants to be there for him too. Argh!" He wiped his palm over his face. "No! I only left that out because I knew you'd freak out. Look, she's got a boyfriend, okay? What? No!"
Yikes. The heiress groggily stomped over to her old room, relieved to know that she still had a respectable amount of clothes tucked away in her wardrobe. After picking a simple sundress - because to hell with anything remotely constricting right now. How on earth had she fallen asleep in that pair of white skinny jeans? - she stepped into her old bathroom and threw on the shower.
"Good morning," Bulla greeted perkily as she entered the kitchen. "Oh, that smells great." She hovered around the stove top, eagerly eyeing the pancakes currently being prepared.
"Give me another few minutes." Bulma bumped her daughter away with her hip. "Then we can all sit down and eat together."
Bulla couldn't suppress the snort that ungracefully escaped her nose on seeing her brother. He was apparently awake now but had his arms folded on the bench top with his forehead resting on his wrists. "You alive?" she pressed her palm to his shoulder and whispered into his ear. All she got back was a barely audible groan.
"Double funeral then I guess," she jested, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. "Because I'm pretty sure Goten's girlfriend is on the verge of murdering him." If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn she actually heard a faint chuckle come out of him. Bulla reached across the bench for a knife and small cutting board to begin preparing slivers of fruit for her upcoming stack.
"Good morning, Goten," Bulma voiced cheerfully as the aforementioned hybrid stepped into the Briefs' kitchen. "I'm making enough for everyone, so feel free to join us."
He pulled up a stool next to the heiress, looking a bit flustered. "Sounds great, thanks Bulma."
"Wow, do none of us have to go to work?" Bulla questioned, looking from her brother on her left to his friend on her right. "I mean, I know I'm a bum, but what about you two?"
"Trunks will be taking some time off," Bulma offered from the stove.
"I'm between contracts as of two days ago," Goten added. "So I'm a free man until further notice."
"What a treat to have the three of you over for breakfast!" Bulma cheered, clasping her hands together while she spun around to face the two conscious demi-Saiyans. "It's just like the old days."
"I really am sorry about earlier," Bulla spoke quietly after a few moments of silence, keeping her attention on the task in front of her, despite the fact that it didn't require all that much concentration. "She sounded pretty mad."
"Don't worry about it," he mumbled, vigorously scratching his scalp with his fingers. "She gets like that sometimes. It's not your fault."
"What are you two whispering about?" Bulma asked as she plopped the last of the pancakes on the large serving dish.
"Nothing, mom." Bulla carefully placed the plates around the seating area, letting Trunks' balance on his head. "Relationship drama. I think we all have our fair share of it." Her thoughts vaguely drifted to her own boyfriend.
In other news. She eyeballed the mouthwatering sight in front of her. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, maple syrup and whipped cream piled on top of a stack of delicious homemade pancakes. Kami, I couldn't give this shit up in a million years.
"You ready to go?" Bulla voiced, wrapping her scarf around her neck while she checked herself in the mirror next to the front door of her apartment.
"Yup," Pan affirmed, skipping down the passageway to join the heiress.
The two girls were currently sharing a condo that was owned by her family. The heiress had moved out during her second year of university and Pan ended up joining her unofficially half a year later when she needed an occasional place to crash after a night on the town. Before either of them knew it, two years had passed and they were full-on roomies - watching rom-coms in their pyjamas, ensuring they kept a low profile when one of them brought a guy home and commiserating over each girls' endless, yet entirely different forms of drama.
"She didn't even give a hint as to what this could be about?" Pan enquired, closing the door behind her and triple-checking it was properly locked.
"Nope." Bulla let out a breath while she headed for the stairway. "Just that the two of us should bring an open mind."
Once both girls were on the roof, they each surveyed the surrounding area before taking to the sky. "Do you have any suspicions?" the quarterling pressed, folding her arms while she drifted onto her back in thought.
"I'm about seventy percent sure she's going to suggest we work for the corporation," the heiress answered, making a face. "She knows I'll haul my ass there eventually, but maybe she's worried about the fact that we both seem kind of directionless right now." Bulla cleared some stray hairs that were attempting to dig their way into her nose. "Or maybe she just doesn't like being outnumbered and wanted some more estrogen in the house."
"I can't believe Trunks is back home," Pan uttered, dipping and arching midflight like a dolphin. "It's so weird. I've always seen him as an adult, pretty much. And now he's back living with mommy and daddy."
"It's only been a week, Pan," Bulla laughed. "It's not like he's gone full-loser. Besides, it's easier to dodge the paps at home. I don't really blame him for wanting to stay holed up in there. They've barely left me alone and I'm not even the one who got dumped."
"So..." Pan started, clearly feeling the waters.
"Nope." Bulla shook her head. "I have no idea and I'm not going to ask. If he wants to talk about it, he can, but I doubt he will. You know what he's like."
"Yeah," the quarterling sighed. "Maybe he'll talk to me though. It's different with family."
The two girls touched down on the grass behind her father's gravity room, ensuring they were well away from the street and any inquisitive eyes dying to get a glimpse of the mysterious Briefs family.
"We're here mom!" Bulla announced on entering the CC kitchen where she sensed her mother's ki. "Hello, big brother." She gave Trunks a squeeze while he sat at the kitchen bench and flicked through his phone. Pan came around the other side of him and kissed his cheek.
"Hey you two," Bulma smiled warmly at the new arrivals. "Glad to see you girls know how to keep good time."
"You've got me and Bulla all curious, Bulma," Pan grinned, grabbing the stool next to the lone male. "We couldn't get here fast enough."
"No point in beating around the bush then, I suppose. Are you three ready to hear my request?" Bulma pressed her palms into the bench opposite the hybrids, eyes falling on each of them one-by-one.
"Three?" Bulla cocked her head, arm still loosely draped over Trunks' shoulder. She shifted her attention to her brother. "You're a part of this too? What exactly's going on here?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," he shrugged, finally slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Mom hasn't said a word to me about it, outside of insisting that the two of you are here to hear it first."
"Hit me!" Pan declared, eyes already dancing with excitement.
"I would like the three of you to run a little errand for me," Bulma began, taking a moment to assess their engagement so far.
"An errand?" Bulla reared, suddenly entirely uninterested. "Mom. We have people we can pay to do that sort of thing."
"Not this kind of errand," Bulma added with a knowing smile, leaning further into the bench and lowering her face to meet the three younger ones. "I need a few individuals who are reliable, self-sufficient and, most importantly, loyal to the Briefs."
"Ooo, I feel like I'm being initiated into some kind of mob deal," Pan whispered, drumming her nails against the granite.
"Mom, c'mon," Trunks sighed. "We're not kids anymore. I feel like you're building us up to go to Disneyland or something. Just tell us what the full story is without all the hype."
"Oh, you're no fun," Bulma waved her hand at her still-gloomy son. "But fine. I have a few supplies that I need. That the company needs, in fact. And before anyone says anything." She put up her palm and closed her eyes. "Don't tell me it's not my business anymore. The Capsule Corporation will always be my business and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands."
Jeez, mom.
"So anyway," Bulma continued. "I've been working on some designs in my downtime."
Of course she has. Bulla rolled her eyes.
"And I need someone to collect a few parts for me. I already know where we can find them, and how much it should cost all up. All I need is for some brave souls to go out and gather them. So what do you kids say? Have I got your attention?"
"Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling us." Bulla narrowed her eyes at her mother.
"I'm with Bulla." Trunks folded his arms and sat up straight. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," Bulma smiled a smile that seemed suspiciously Goku-like, which was all Bulla needed to know that she wouldn't like what was coming next. "But the parts we need can't be found on earth."
It took a few moments to sink in.
"We're going to space?!" Pan erupted, almost jumping out of her skin as she threw her stool back.
"No." Bulla lifted her nose.
"No way." Trunks agreed, shaking his head.
"Guys, please!" Pan begged, clearly already in love with the idea. "It would be fucking incredible! The three of us combing the galaxy in search of alien tech. Oh my god!" She bounced over to the heiress and grabbed her arms. "Bulla, think about it. No job hunting, no interviews, no paparazzi, no one will know who we are! We'll just be some random earthlings."
"Pan, we have lives here," Bulla frowned.
"Hardly!" The quartering shook her shoulders. "We have no commitments. No one will miss us, plus it will be fun as hell."
Bulla gasped in offence. How dare she! People would totally miss me.
"While you two socialites barely keep the world turning," Trunks finally spoke up, eyeing his mother suspiciously. "Mom seems to be forgetting my role in the biggest technology company on the planet."
"You insult me." Bulma closed her eyes and turned away. "You think I didn't consider that? Of course I'd fill your seat while you're away. It couldn't be in better hands." Silence filled the room as the three Saiyan hybrids realised that Bulma was definitely serious about this plan. "Trunks." She pivoted to face her son. "Some time away from everything and a break from your regular routine is just what you need. And Bulla." Bulma shifted her attention to her daughter. "A few months away from your life of luxury will do wonders for your sense of purpose and direction. Trust me."
Months?! Oh hell no.
"I can see the two of you have some reservations," Bulma added, placing a palm on each child's arm. "All I ask is that you think about it. I can't really ask this of anyone else and, if I'm being honest, I don't particularly want to. Not only would you be doing the company a massive favour, I think it would do both of you the world of good."
"I'll twist her arm Mrs B," Pan pledged, hooking her arm through the younger girl's elbow. "I'll get her on that ship like my life depends on it."
"Thank you, Pan," Bulma smiled, all seriousness dissolved from her features. "I knew I could count on you to be on my side for this one."
Space? Bulla stuck out her tongue in disgust. I'd rather eat my own hair.
